DrowBorn
by HPKensai
Summary: The lives of drow are cruel and harsh. Most are evil. Few are otherwise. This is his story. Zaknafein.
1. Prelude to the Darkness

Drow-Born  
  
Characters and world based on R.A. Salvatore's The Dark Elf Trilogy  
  
Prelude to the Darkness  
  
  
  
He lived in the alleyways of the House Do'Urden complex. A commoner... a soldier for Matron Do'Urden. Lived in the Do'Urden complex, in Menzoberranzan. Lived, but hated. Sometimes, he cursed his luck in life. He despised his world, but found no way, no alternative, to the hell he felt he was forced to live. 


	2. Zak'nefien

Chapter 1  
  
Zak'nefien  
  
  
  
"Look, Zak," a class member said to him in drow. "You have to go to the tournament. Matron Do'Urden--"  
  
"--can stay away from me. I have no care for out Matron Mother. She calls, I come. She demands, I do. I won't do anything extra," Zak'nefien snapped.  
  
"Just go. It's for Weapon Master. No other matron is nice enough to do this. She has only one son right now, and he is a budding wizard. Making Firstboy Nalfien Weapon Master would be a grave insult at this point."  
  
"If Matron Do'Urden tells me that I must go, I will go. Otherwise I see no reason to go, it is not a formal request," came the reply.  
  
"But--" he dropped it as Zak pointedly turned off and left him to his thoughts.  
  
Zakne'fien, a commoner in House Do'Urden, rarely did as he was told, and now that his Matron Mother was putting up the position of Weapon Master, there had to be something more to it, Zak was excited about it.  
  
But it made his thoughts spin. He was no ordinary drow. The twenty years he spent training in the Drow Academy for Fighting, and all the lies the drow storyteller told had not been erased from Zak's mind yet. He then remembered. Matron Do'Urden did not have a patron of the house. In effect... the patron would be the Weapon Master. Zak was not sure he wanted to become the Weapon Master anymore.  
  
He walked on home. He liked the sights of the drow city, even though he knew the blood underneath every stone sculpture. If only the drow weren't evil, he thought, and sighed, giving his white hair a shake. His eyes reverted to the normal spectrum, and he looked at the actual Menzoberranzan. It was a twisted cavern, extremely large, perfect for the sneak attacks houses usually made on each other. He sighed and walked back to his room.  
  
As he approached his dorm, he heard some scuffling behind him. Quite unlike the drow, as well. Zak'nefien tensed and acted like he didn't hear anything, but quickened his step a little. He looked around and saw nothing different in front of him, and he dared not look back. His dorm was one of the smaller ones, for just plain commoners. He walked to a secret door, and after searching the room for any unwanted company, he walked through the door and secured it with the previous trap. A delayed fireball inside the person's finger is not a fun experience. The trap had cost him a fortune, but it was well worth it. He walked down the passageway, unimpeded. He often doubled back on different routes and made noises in different chambers to keep others away from him. He had already decided to fight in the tournament, no matter what being the patron of House Do'Urden meant, and Zak was determined to win it.  
  
He walked into the final chamber, and walked into the center of the room. He looked up and saw the image of a drider. Any other who stepped into the circle would be attacked by many driders; the previous owner told Zak that, and told Zak that if he died, Zak was to go there immediately and claim the room for his own. He, smiling ironically, looked to the image and waited for the correct image. The drider picture then became two blades and Zak knew what to do.  
  
"Asanque rivvil," he said loudly in drow. The image of the twin blades darkened and the circle in which he was standing rose up and he watched as the ceiling came closer. The image flickered, as did the ceiling, and Zak slid through the portal. The pedestal that he had been standing on a moment ago lowered almost instantly and returned to the image it had been moments ago, the drider.  
  
The follower cursed. Damn that drow! Had he always been that intelligent? He stalked off, sliently as only a drow could. 


	3. An Unlikely Savior

Chapter 2  
  
An Unlikely Savior  
  
Zak'nefien edged towards the display case. He had never come here before, only knew to come here because his need was urgent enough. He looked over the edge of the display case and gasped. In it, he saw the most beautiful blades he had ever seen. On the magically created shield, there was an inscription. It read:  
  
"The one who knows the words of inferiority,  
  
The one who has been brought here by peril, or otherwise  
  
But not by greed or want for the gifts  
  
But for want to destroy a stronger foe  
  
Who is forced into that which he cannot fix  
  
Who lives a lie  
  
Grab the hilts of the blades and leave the place  
  
Grab your prize, rightfully earned  
  
And never return  
  
And remember the price  
  
The price owed to those in need  
  
The time is now, go warrior and fight the foe seen, but not seen."  
  
Zak smiled grimly. The greed was in his mind... He wanted the blades, but only after knowing about them, never before. He had not known about them and would have preferred that he could take the weapons without worry. He shrugged, and reached into the case. His hands lightly touched the hilts of the blades. He grabbed them and quickly walked back to the portal and instantly reappeared inside the circle in his previous chamber.  
  
Zak quickly walked back to his room, not taking any backwards loops, the new weapons tucked safely in the sheaths. He walked through the expensively trapped door and reset the trap once again. The previous owner of the room was a strong magician, and never needed a trap on the door. Zak grinned as he remembered why.  
  
He rushed to the tournament arena and found his previous annoyance.  
  
"I'm here, alright Fal'rshic?" Zak stayed nonchalant, and wondered how such a non-drow name was thrown on this one.  
  
"Good, I told you to come, and you did. It'll be a big challenge. Matron's orders that no one dies, fights are to first blood or yield. She says that we will need all the soldiers soon."  
  
Zak'nefien smiled half-heartedly. He was, unlike his brethren, happy that there would be no killing. He knew that the drow were wrong in killing others, and made sure he did not kill for the fun of it. He scanned the area, and looked at Narbondel. The pillar read about eight hands up. He wondered when the tournament would start.  
  
"Fal'rshic, what time does it start?" Zak inquired, still looking around.  
  
"At about nine hands. You have an hour for sparring until the tournament. Just make sure you enter before you spar."  
  
Zak stepped away before Fal'rshic could answer. He walked up to the Matron Mother, who was efficently running the event. He respectfully lowered his eyes and bowed to the Matron, fully aware that she was sizing him up.  
  
"Well... who are you, now?" She seemed amused, almost charmed, if a drow could be charmed, by Zak's respect. After no forthcoming responce, she repeated the question, more than a little anger inflected in her tone.  
  
"Zak'nefien with no title worth being heard by my matron." he responded, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.  
  
"Well... Zak'nefien, go spar for an hour, and I'll call you when you are to start fighting, understand?"  
  
"Yes, Matron Mother, Lloth be with you."  
  
Zak walked to the other fighters and started sparring.  
  
"He will win, no doubt," Malice said, with an almost entertained smirk. Malice was Do'Urden's oldest daughter, and her every comment and response was weighed by the Matron Mother extensively.  
  
"And good for him then," Matron Do'Urden said seeming not to care. "Call up the fighters. It is time for the tournament to begin." 


	4. The Tournament

Chapter 3  
  
The Tournament  
  
Zak sighed as Matron Do'Urden started the tournament. He had finished sparring against another possible choice and was extremely bored by the lack of skill the commoner had. He truly wondered if he really wanted to fight in the tournament, distressfully noting that the skill of who he just fought was the norm in the tournament, and perhaps even that skill was one of the better ones.  
  
Zak knew that it was mostly because the drow were taught to lose all passion in fighting, in everyday life. From day one in the Academy, Zak and his classmates were taught on how to fight, and not to revel in the kill, but to kill and move on. They were brainwashed, and most that were naïve were induced entirely. Those that knew otherwise had already been told about the information and believed it. That, Zak believed, was the mistake of the drow.  
  
Lost in his thoughts, Zak did not hear the call of the Matron. After he was called twice, he walked onto the platform where the fight was supposed to be. Matron Do'Urden announced those that were fighting, and the extremely short list of disparaging comments that were to discourage them, yet Zak absorbed them and ignored them. His opponent, however, flinched and Zak knew that the comments were actually aimed at his opponent, and not at him, even though he had been the slow one.  
  
"Fight!" Matron Do'Urden cried to the fighters. And, softly, to Malice, she said, "Watch this fight, and the laziness of the one called Zak'nefien. He is better than he will show... he will be the next patron." Malice smiled just so her mother could not see the rage in her eyes. She knew her mother was taunting her, telling her to become the matron without saying it. But Malice just watched and was amazed at how many parries Zak missed, amazed at how sluggishly the weapons moved. Perhaps he needed a better challenge.  
  
Zak watched the commoner pull off a dazzling foward thrust feint, followed by a low jab by the hilt of his dirk to Zak's groin. Zak, however expected the attack, and while the drow was moving in his latest attack, Zak merely snuck behind the drow and nicked his arm, all the way from his shoulder to his wrist. It was a small cut, but it bled immediately.  
  
"Zak'nefien has won!" Matron Do'Urden cried to the audience. The audience cried out many calls, some being "Kill the loser!" and other comments of the same ilk. Zak just looked at the loser with an approving stare, and just wondered when he could leave the tournament.  
  
"Zak'nefien," Matron Do'Urden said. "You are the new Weapon Master!"  
  
The crowd gasped audibly. The tournament was not finished, yet Matron Do'Urden had selected the Weapon Master, and effectively her new patron. She glared at them.  
  
"I said he won," she snarled to her commoners. "Does anyone want to tell me otherwise?"  
  
"Yes," said Zak, immediately. "You have not finished the tournament, and I would like a better enemy. It would not be... acceptable if I won now by defeating such a weak opponent." Some people were shocked that Zak would outwardly tell the Matron Mother what to do, and others shocked because he had just gotten a very respectable position in the house. 


	5. Memories

Chapter 4  
  
Memories  
  
"You damn fool..." Malice cursed at Zaknafien before her mother could respond. "I think--"  
  
"Silence, Malice," the older drow commanded. "He is right. And I think we have the challenge needed... but first..." she smiled at Zak and motioned to a guard. Before Zak could react, a different guard's hand, balled up into a fist, hit him in the temple.  
  
*****-----*****  
  
"Do I hafta go to the Academy?" young Zak had asked.  
  
"Yes," his father had replied. "You will go to the Academy and do your mother proud." Zak's mother had died in child-birth with Zak. She was, like all drow, a worshipper of Lloth, and her death was a sign that she would not be pleased with Zak, and so Lloth had taken Zak's mother's life. It had been an extremely bloody event, and Lloth had even gone to placing a yolchol there to witness the birth and execute the female cleric. Lloth, however, did not want the child dead. His living in the world of the drow would actually cause more chaos, something Lloth loved in her drow cities.  
  
"But... why?" Zak had inquired, only a young dark elf of seven. "I'm too young though, I thought..."  
  
"You will do as you are told Zak," his father hissed, ending the debate.  
  
*****-----*****  
  
"Are you awake, you damn male?"  
  
Zak made no movement. His head was throbbing, and his hands were bound behind his back. He recognized the person talking to him. Malice. Zak groaned, an appropriate response, one Malice would never understand.  
  
"Get up, and grab your weapons. You get your actual fight now."  
  
Zak sat up and felt his bonds for a second. Realizing that he could easily break free whenever he wanted, he stood up and sluggishly walked over to his weapon belt. He turned around in a complete 360 and undid his bonds, grabbed the belt and placed it about his waist. Malice looked at him, approving, turned, and walked out the door.  
  
Zak looked around for the remnants of his bonds... but there were none. Illusions, he thought angrily. He was rarely stuck by them, had even ignored a "summoned" balor to kill a wizard. And yet, he lost to a simple illusion. He walked out the door and followed Malice to the room. Malice hid a big smile from Zak. She had been harboring thoughts, but would never actually complete such a thing until the matron was out of the way. And, her smile grew even bigger, that obstacle would be gone quite soon if she got her way.  
  
"Through here," she motioned to a door, and watched Zak walk through. She smiled, and snuck into a secret passageway, one that would lead her to the other side of the arena where she could enter it just like Zak had. She laughed evilly and flashed her hands at the awaiting guard. She would be the other contestant. The guard respectfully stepped to the side and flashed back a response.  
  
She nodded slightly, and walked through the door.  
  
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Just a few comments about stuff for those of you who have read this.  
  
Timeframe: The story is set before the assention of Malice, and will continue until Zak's death.  
  
Understanding Narbondel: For purposes of the story, one hand of Narbondel equals one hour. The brightest is noon, the darkest is midnight.  
  
I happen to like writing, but I jump into the story too often, and forget what I'm writing. I guess I'll be using a lot of flashback since I didn't start at his birth. Even though I like Drizzt, I will only write about Drizzt when Zaknafein and Drizzt talk or Zak thinks about Drizzt, else I will stay away from him, since he isn't my character, and I don't know his personality well enough.  
  
I just have the 15 books Salvatore has written about him. Don't know him at all. 


	6. The Final Bout

Chapter 6  
  
The Final Bout  
  
Zak's shock was only stopped by his quick reactions, otherwise he would never have been able to recover from seeing his opponent. Malice! Great, he thought miserably. Now, I have to win without hurting her, else I want to become minced spider food. He walked to the starting neutral ground and bowed respectively to Malice.  
  
Malice, however did no such thing. She glared past Zaknafein to her mother.  
  
"Well... I thought you were picking someone Malice, not fighting yourself..." Matron Do'Urden smiled as Malice smiled. "Looks like Zaknafein has a challenge. Fight is to first blood."  
  
Malice grinned devilishly. She knew Zak's problem. If he lost, he would probably die. But if he hurt her, then he would die. It was a Lloth-damned situation that Zak never wanted to be in. Zak however, just smiled, and never extracted his blades from the respective sheaths. After a moment, Malice growled and grabbed her whip, and snapped it, sending the snake heads out at Zak's face. But, Zak was not there. Using the same move he previously used, he had already snuck behind Malice, but instead of cutting her arm, he stood passively and waited.  
  
"What are you waiting for, fool?" Malice taunted. "Just make me bleed. You will win."  
  
"You are planning something, Malice," Zak said softly, only so Malice could hear, and looked her in the eye. "And I know that fighting me was the last thing you wanted to do." Malice rocked back on her heels. He was more observant that he looked, she realized. She studied the fighter more carefully. His pifawai (sp??) was missing, and the blades were too nice for a commoner to own. His boots were standard Do'Urden issue, but he had a pair of gloves on, something Daernon Nashez'baernom never handed out to commoners.  
  
"Fine, you damn male. I am planning something," Malice growled again, unhappy that the common male had outsmarted her. "Just let me get a shot at you when my mother is close by. I am planning to use a spell. I will reward you if you survive, but know that I won't help you if you get hit!"  
  
"Of course," Zak responded with a smile. "Asanque."  
  
He suddenly rushed her, weaponless, and before reaching her, he dropped into a tackle and slide tackled her lightly. She, no novice to fighting, barely dodged and snapped down the whip. In a flash, Zak's one blade swiped out, and the flat side of the blade knocked four of the six heads unconscious. His other blade wrapped around the whip and smacked Malice's wrist slightly. The other two heads, however, scored hits on his uncovered face and forearm, and he felt his face and left arm start to numb.  
  
He jumped back towards the matron. His left arm drooped, and he looked at Malice cross-eyed, however not at all affected. Malice understood however and grinned impishly. She started casting a spell and Zak tried to clear his head, but Malice had finished before he could fully clear his unaffected head.  
  
"Zeernnoth... Ilbhit!" Malice screeched, the words to her newest spell, one Lloth had told her to use in just this situation. Zak instantly saw the ghost fly impossibly fast at him, and he screamed a true scream of fear. Malice looked on without emotion. She watched as Zak jumped to the left and impossibly dodged the attack. However, even if he had not moved, it would have ignored him. The ghost flew right at the matron and it entered her black heart. Almost instantly, it expanded, bigger than a heart should be, and before anyone could react, Matron Do'Urden was dead. 


End file.
